


I Could Tell You But I'd Have to Kill You

by ghettoassenglishman



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Chases, F/M, Killing Eve AU, M/M, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:36:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghettoassenglishman/pseuds/ghettoassenglishman
Summary: Mickey Milkovich is a highly trained and talented killer who clings to the luxuries his violent job has to offer him. Ian Gallagher, a bored yet smart desk-bound security services operative, is trapped within a routine that fails to fulfil his fantasies. In a fierce game of cat and mouse, these two men become equally obsessed with eachother. One wanting to be saved, the other in need of excitement. Love can be a dangerous game.Killing Eve AU with a twist.





	I Could Tell You But I'd Have to Kill You

Joseph Wright. 32. Born and raised in the North-side of Chicago. Divorced. Still single. Has had three girlfriends’, before, during and after his marriage. No children. Takes weekly visits to the Heaven and Hell strip club on the other side of town. Occupation? No occupation, currently living off his parents remaining heritage. Rich fuck. Big house. Empty. Cries himself to sleep every night. Alcoholic – which is the only useful trait about him.

That’s his target.

Mickey peers around the brick wall, separating himself and Joseph. He’s dressed nicer than usual; buttoned up shirt, a dark-black jacket. The shoes, though, they stay the same. Mickey wrinkles his nose up in disgust. People like that just cause his murderous tendencies to rise.

“Hey, Joseph!” Mickey darts his head to the side. This was not part of the plan. Quick and easy Terry told him. Easy ride. Behind the strip club, he said.

Mickey always liked a challenge.

He follows the voice, witnessing a smaller man trail behind Joseph waving his hands. Making sure his target has no awareness of his presence, his footsteps soft on the December snow.

Joseph smiles, almost awkwardly. “Hey, man. You going in?” He gestures to the strip club, his other hand tucked in his jean pocket.

Mickey watches, tutting as his plan continued to approach obstacles. Specially this new guy, ruining his plan. It angers him more; irritation mostly. He had some re-runs of Jeopardy to watch later. He continues to follow, his hood hiding his face as he drew closer to the two men entering the club. He hated these places; they always smelt of sweat and overly used, cheap perfume.

He grabs a beer, perched on a stool that watched over the front-row seats to an awful display of female, alleged, dancing. Turning up his nose, Mickey observes and examines the location; its escape routes, security, cameras and, easy access to some unwanted alcohol that Mickey would drink later.

It wouldn’t do, though. Not with his friend sniffing around like a puppy dog. He’d have to wait; take in a few more hours of naked tits and greasy old men. Brilliant.

Three hours pass by with Joseph flinging his money onto the stage, his drinks flowing. Mickey had almost fell asleep, bored. He came here for one thing and he had to sit through all this. He should have put it on the slack pile; let someone else take it. Boredom annoyed him more than Joseph’s so-called friend.

They begin to step up from their seats to Mickey’s excitement and head towards the exit. Swiftly drinking down the rest of his beer, Mickey trails behind; managing each step to stay out of sight. Once in the street, Mickey observes carefully. Just as he was taught. Really, he had no reason to follow the guy because he had already memorised his address, even down to what he had in his fridge. Two eggs, one apple, and a bowl of old Chinese food. Very pathetic, Mickey thought.

Luckily, Mickey watched with a smile as Joseph’s friend separated from him, taking a different path home. He began speeding up, wanting the night to be over now considering he had been stuck in a strip club for hours. Once Joseph reached his porch, Mickey hid behind the wittering bush by the gate, controlling his low breathing.

***

Joseph flicks on the hallway light, pocketing his keys as he stumbled towards the kitchen. With a blurry head, he finds himself at the fridge, grimacing at the lack of food before him. Just as he reached for the bowl of cold Chinese food, he hears a floorboard creak. He turns his head.

“Hello?” He calls out, laughing at himself.

Silence follows. Joseph rips off the foil covering the bowl and places it within the microwave, plugging in his now-dead phone beside it. His yawn is interrupted by yet another crack.

He turns his head once more, “Hey? Hello? John is that you? I told you to leave me alone.”

Amid the darkness behind him, the only light coming from the hall and the microwave, he feels himself coil within. He hears another footstep.

“It’s a beautiful house you’ve got here.”

Joseph startles at the voice, bashing his back against the counter, a yelp falling off his lips. Instinctively, he reaches out to the kitchen knives.

The voice appears again in the darkness; collected and smooth, almost seductive. “Well, it’s a bit pathetic.” The voice trails off, but somehow sees Joseph’s succeeding actions, “Kitchen knife isn’t going to help you here, man.”

Joseph, just as they always do, still grabs the knife. He grips it, pushing it forwards and aiming it towards the darkness. “Who’s there?! Step back! I’ll call the police.”

“Oh, the _police!”_ the voice mocks, his footsteps drawing closer. “They do irritate me. They _always_ try and make my job _so_ much fucking harder.”

Joseph shuffles further away from the voice, eyeing up the front door. He’s suddenly sober, his voice shaky, “I’ve got a knife! I- I will-“

Finally the voice comes out of the darkness.

***

Mickey gives a smirk as he finally steps out into the light, his hands empty, his mind filled with boredom after seeing yet another scared man, crying for his life. He crosses his arms, “You’ll what? Stab me? Go ahead.” He taunts, opening himself up to such violence.

Joseph – or how Mickey sees him; the wimp – lets the knife shake in his hand. Mickey gives off a laugh, leaning against the counter casually. “Well?” He asks again.

His eyes wide with fear, resembling a deer in the headlights, Joseph asks, “Who are you?”

Mickey shrugs, fiddling with a stray fork laid on the counter, “Just call me the messenger.”

“For who?” Joseph rapidly begins to get more anxious, his whole body shaking now.

Mickey grows bored. He doesn’t really like small talk. Sighing loudly, he answers with a coolness that could make your skin crawl, “your ex-wife.”

Before Joseph had time to respond, Mickey rips a knife from his own pocket, swiftly striking his target at the neck, slicing it perfectly across his throat. “Oops.” He whispers as Joseph falls to the ground, grabbing his throat, gurgling on the blood that filled up his windpipe.

Mickey watches, amused. He loves to watch. It’s more like a re-run, really. He’s seen it many times before, it’s become a chore. He steps over the man’s body, grabbing the bowl out of the microwave that threatened to beep in the next second.

“Oh Joseph. You really should have fucked her more.” He talks to the lifeless body laid at his feet, “This was fun, though.” He grabs the stray fork that he had previously been fiddling with wiping it against his tailored jacket. Having a mouthful, he hums when the food hits his taste buds, “Mmm, _yes_ Joseph. This is _Just_ what I needed after tonight.”

Mickey catches a glimpse of the notification popping up on a laptop nearby. He continues to eat, kicking away Joseph’s frail arm, as he stepped over his now-dead target’s body. Narrowing his eyes, Mickey looks back towards Joseph. “What’s this? You been online again?”

He laughs, jumping into the computer seat, his legs balancing onto the desk. Food in his lap, he begins to scroll, his words falling out his mouth like a motor. “I mean, I get bored. But these dating sites? Boring, boring, _boring!_ ” He scrolls some more. “I’m an assassin. You can’t really put that on your page, can you? Maybe for people who have some weird fucking fetishes, am I right?!”

Mickey laughs loudly, his mouth filled, turning his attention to Joseph’s dead body causing a blood pool on the kitchen floor. He slams his hand against the laptop. “No, Nope, nah. Fuck no.” He begins reeling off all of Joseph’s previous dates. Inbetween his searches through Joseph’s dating history, a message pops up at the side of the screen.

“Oh,” Mickey gasps loudly, “we have a live one.”

Mickey clicks onto the chat, his chewing stopping as his eyes scanned the words that were nothing of any excitement to him. He clicks onto the persons profile, his eyes widening in, not awe, but exhilaration.

The page loads up. It’s man, not to his surprise. There was something about this man, though. His bright orange hair, his body slumped in a suit that Mickey knows, not just assumes, has been bought for around thirty dollars. He seems uncomfortable, bored; just like Mickey. Mickey places down the half-empty bowl. “who are you _?_ ” he says slowly, licking his lips, “Ian _Gallagher.”_


End file.
